


Turn the Lights Down

by SubwayWolf



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Vampire, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Past Abuse, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: To bring in enough cash to survive, and to make sure he's safe in the dangerous business of sex work, Zen can't be a part of the normal sex trade. He has to service wealthy men who have different tastes from everyone else.Men who also happen to be vampires.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirstenthedestroyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirstenthedestroyer/gifts).



> i have .. so many fics im struggling to work on bc ~depression!~ but here is ANOTHER which struck my fancy so hard.. i love when yall request me things. i actually do have another multi-chap mysmes fic in the request box, but that one's gonna be dark and dirty and only for a select few with specific palates... coming soon !!
> 
> shout-out to the sweetest human on earth [kirsten](http://kirstenthedestroyer.tumblr.com/) who suggested this super cool au thing which i kind of put a twist on but.. god i like it so much that it's probably gonna turn into another multi-chapter... i have no self-control. anyway thank you again kirsten for being so great and lovely and suggesting this!!!! much love!!
> 
> zero clue how long this will be, so i'm making no promises. enjoy.

It was raining on the evening Zen met Jumin Han.

It was also pitch black outside. It was too early for the sun to set, but clouds blacked out the sun and darkened the whole city. Luckily, Zen was driven to the location he was ordered to meet at. He always was, by a driver, dressed in black as well, who never spoke, whose face Zen never saw.

He was dropped off at the front of the building and kept himself dry by running inside. It was a skyscraper, a living complex for the extremely rich. Zen’s clients tended to be rich. They also tended to be old, unattractive, emotional, and lonely, which interfered with Zen’s craft in varying degrees of difficulty.

Zen was very new to this. When he left home as a young teenager, his dream was to work in theater. And he did get a few understudy jobs, technical stage work, and small roles with a few lines each. But it wasn’t enough to pay the bills. And for a pretty boy on his own in the middle of the business district, the only way to survive was to go into sex work.

He had been doing this for a while now. Too long. Long enough for him to get hurt in many ways, but the paycheck at the end is what mattered. Zen learned quickly that people were willing to pay a high price for his pretty face, which meant getting smacked around by clients and bosses alike was not the right place for him. He had to move up the ladder, so to speak.

Zen lucked out not long ago and got a place in an escort service which had a price tag reserved for the wealthiest businessmen and women of the world. He’d kept that job for many months now. It was safer than street-level work, and the pay was steadier. He thought this was the peak of the food chain, but he was wrong.

Upon seeing Zen’s looks, experiencing his charms, and witnessing his skill pleasing clients, Zen’s boss spoke to him privately and told him about an escort service which was even more elite, and more profitable, than the one he was in at the moment.

This escort service still catered to the super rich, but there was a stipulation. These wealthy clients happened to be _vampires_ as well, and spending the night with them also meant acting as a meal.

Zen knew that vampires existed in the world, but he had never met one to his knowledge. As far as he knew, they looked and behaved like normal people. They had jobs, families, homes. What he wasn’t sure of were the myths about how long they lived, if it was possible to kill them, what they could and couldn’t eat. He knew the things about silver and sunlight and garlic were total bullshit, but beyond that he was clueless.

He also knew about the blood-drinking. He once thought that might be a myth as well, but no dice; his newest boss prepared him for that. _You’re hired to satisfy them,_ he had said, _That means using your body and your blood. Give yourself to the client. Allow him to drink from you._

The thought of it sent shivers down Zen’s spine. Thankfully, the boss handled the contracts and waivers. Unlike sex work of the lowest and dirtiest levels, pimps this high in the game protected their escorts. Though the concept of having his blood drank scared him, at least there was legal paperwork protecting him from being harmed. Still, whether or not these clients abided by those contracts was yet to be seen.

But, god, the paycheck was unbelievable. One thousand up front, and another five thousand when it was over. Zen could never decline figures like that, as shameful as it was. Working the streets used to get him two thousand on a _good_ month. The fact that he could make three times that in just one night made drawing a little blood more than worth it.

Tonight was Zen’s first time with this new service. He did not know what to expect. He tried not to let the anxiety show in his face, though it was running hot waves through every inch of every nerve.

Passing through the halls and stepping into the elevator, it seemed that everyone who looked at him knew exactly who he was and why he was there. He was wearing a white leather jacket in response to the rain, underneath was a white tank top, and his pants were black jeggings, which served the purpose of looking sexy while also being easy to remove. 

He wondered how they knew. Could they smell it on him? See it in his eyes? They had probably seen men like him all around this place, the way it swarmed with rich people.

Just maybe, they could smell the fear on him. Maybe they were vampires too, and could smell the fresh blood. Being paranoid was not helping Zen’s anxiety, but he couldn’t help it. 

Vampires or not, rich people had a tendency to know when people were afraid, like sharks tasting blood, for lack of a better metaphor. And Zen was a very collected person, always cool in these situations, but as each second passed, he grew more nervous.

The elevator passed the forty-fifth floor by the time Zen realized: his client lives in the penthouse. The fucking penthouse, of a building already swarmed with South Korea’s top one-percent. So whoever owned the best real estate had to be the king of them all.

The doors opened and he stepped out of the elevator. There was a small hallway greeting him – black carpet, dark walls, and a black door. He approached it and rang the doorbell and prepared for a wait of agony.

After a beat, a man opened the door. He was slightly taller than Zen, but the visual opposite in almost every way. He had dark eyes with no light, dark hair, and he was sharply dressed in an all-black suit. Even his skin seemed dull when compared to Zen’s youthful glow, though this guy couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. 

After noticing this lack of color, Zen felt his heart lurch. This man was actually handsome. For the first time in Zen’s career in sex work, he was rented out to someone he was actually attracted to. For the first time, perhaps he would not have to put his acting skills to use.

Then he remembered. Right… the vampire thing. Zen was standing in front of an actual vampire, and the first thing he thought of was how handsome the guy was? He felt like an idiot.

But what he didn’t expect at all was what the man said to him.

The man hesitated, lowered his brow a little, and in a mildly frustrated voice said, “Oh no. You showed up.”

That shocked Zen. Usually people were happy to see him. They had to pay big bucks for him to get here in the first place, so this nonchalance was very misplaced. Did Zen get the wrong address? No, that’s impossible, he would never be sent to the wrong location; the escort service was very precise and regimented, logistically. 

So this man… had paid in full, specifically requested the most expensive escort the service provided, and he wasn’t happy with what he saw? Something wasn’t right.

Zen was confused. “You’re Mr. Han?”

“Jumin Han,” the man corrected him. “And you are…”

“Zen.” 

It still felt strange to answer with that name. He had taken it up when he first started doing sex work. Not only did it give him the security of anonymity, but also protected his family name from being associated with prostitution. It had been a long time since he had left his family, but even at that, he would never want to ruin them in that way. The name change was often scary as well. It made him an easier target. It made it easier to objectify him, for clients to abuse him without remorse. But the choice between his own safety and that of his family was easy to make.

Jumin looked intimidating, standing in the doorway, tall and handsome. He looked down his nose at Zen, not to condescend him, but to analyze him. “Is that… your real name?” 

While Jumin paused, Zen’s heart jumped. He’d never been called out like that before.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Jumin stepped out of the way to allow Zen to enter. 

When he got inside, Zen immediately scouted the place. He made sure there were no weapons around, nothing that could be used to hurt him. One could never be too careful in this line of work. But the penthouse seemed safe. In fact… it was so beautiful. Zen had never stepped foot in a place this expensive in his life. It made him sad to think he could never afford even a fraction of what this man owned…

Behind him, Jumin closed the door. The noise caused Zen to turn around, a bit startled. A heavy silence ensued as Jumin walked into the room, refusing to look Zen in the eyes. 

The beginning was always the worst, so awkward and empty. Zen preferred clients who skipped small talk and went right to business, but clearly Jumin was not that type of guy.

Jumin must have noticed Zen’s general confusion and disorientation about what was happening. Thankfully, he explained. “I suppose my reaction to your appearance seemed strange. So I should have you know, you were a gift to me.”

Actually, that only raised a million more questions in Zen’s head, answers to which he was too scared to hear. A gift. From whom? There was a third party involved in the shadows? Somehow that made it a whole lot spookier.

“I do feel that this is a ridiculous gift to give your own son as a birthday present,” Jumin sighed. “The culture of the corporate world continuously perplexes me.”

A birthday present… from his _father_? Zen looked at Jumin more closely. Jumin was very young, probably not much older than Zen himself. It was the suit and tie that threw Zen off, the way he spoke and dressed like a middle-aged man, making him seem older than he truly was. He wanted to ask, but it wasn’t his place.

The silence that followed was awkward, and Zen said the first thing that came to mind. “Then I guess I should wish you happy birthday, Mr. Han.”

“Please, don’t call me that. Jumin is fine,” the well-dressed man interjected. Ah, so he was sensitive to that name. Maybe that’s what he called his father.

Zen decided to try and be quiet after that. Jumin didn’t seem to be making any moves though, so perhaps he was more content with conversation. While Zen preferred small talk to go on as little as possible, being trained in companionship meant he could keep a man entertained in more ways than with just his body. Many clients had stories of their own, stories Zen had no inclination to hear – it made these encounters personal, which was the _last_ thing Zen wanted them to be – but he had nonetheless learned how to listen and engage the conversation. After all, time was money. 

This profession did not give him many skills he was proud of, but one good takeaway was that Zen was exceptionally good at reading body language. He had to be, for his own safety, and to know what the client liked and disliked. 

Analyzing Jumin Han was something else, though. Jumin was standing rather far away from Zen. His arms were folded, and he was turned in on himself. He was fidgeting with his fingers, feeling the fabric of his suit. He was nervous and trying to isolate himself for comfort… yet the anxiety did not show in his voice or words. He was good at keeping it all in. Zen figured that exposing him would be the first step towards getting him naked.

Zen took a few steps forward, closing the gap. “You’re new to this, huh?”

Jumin watched his feet as he approached but did not recoil. “Yes. It will be my first time. Perhaps my father knows that.” He looked Zen in the eyes; his own were black and unfaltering, giving no hints to the emotions inside. “Though I consider the concept of tying my sense of masculinity to my sexual history to be thoughtless and ridiculous, he must not think so.” He gave a curious pause. “What do you think about that?”

Zen had never considered it. Personally, he never saw sex as a way of achieving masculinity or validation, just as a way of being close and intimate with someone towards an end of receiving pleasure. “I… don’t know,” he settled on. “Nothing, I guess.”

Jumin nodded once. “I figured.” 

That made Zen’s stomach turn. Jumin probably thought Zen was an idiot now. Not like it mattered… the escorts who had been in the business longer probably didn’t mind that, but it bothered Zen. Talking back at clients and getting into arguments had gotten him scuffed up in the not-so-recent past, and also taken a detrimental portion out of paychecks he needed desperately. Zen could not help that he had a temper. He simply needed to get better at keeping it in check. 

Clearly opposed to this closeness, Jumin started to pace through the open room. He unfolded his arms. “It is best to do this in a controlled environment, I suppose. This is a situation in which you are paid for, experienced, and most importantly, a stranger. This is my first time… so if my performance is mediocre, I don’t need to worry about you holding it against me.”

Zen offered a smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, sweetheart.”

Zen had been so focused on Jumin that he hadn’t thought to look outside. It was still raining, the sky black as night. It provided a gorgeous backdrop to Jumin’s proud, intimidating stature. Zen became acutely aware of his own heart, rapid in his chest. There were aspects of this encounter he was trying to push to the back of his mind, trying to forget, trying most desperately not to fear.

Jumin noticed. “You must be new to this, too.”

“How… can you tell?”

“You’re scared.”

Zen was always scared meeting a client for the first time. He’d been hurt too many times to let down his guard. Still, he asked, “Scared?”

“Scared because of my vampirism, no doubt.” He totally read Zen like an open book, not like that was difficult. “Am I wrong?”

Zen held his breath. _I am scared. Scared of your teeth, and what you might do to me._

Jumin’s eyes were locked onto Zen’s. They were no longer lightless. There was emotion and curiosity in them. Zen’s heart was racing as he was analyzed – vampires can’t read minds, right!?

“Hm.” Jumin paused after that, giving no inclination to what it meant. “I have to admit. This will be my first time tasting blood right from the source. I’ve taken prescribed supplements since puberty, to suppress the cravings. But tonight will be my first time with that as well.”

Zen stared at Jumin with fascination. Supplements? Puberty? There was a whole world and culture out there he knew nothing about. He wanted to know more.

But Jumin sighed. “I apologize. I’m talking a lot about myself. I doubt you want to hear more.” He was wrong, which confirmed that he couldn’t read minds, thank god. “I thought it would make you feel better, given that this is your first time, too.”

Zen felt his body temperature spike. “How did you know that?”

“I can smell it on you,” Jumin answered matter-of-factly. “The women my father brings home have a scent of being used, the way he feasts on them and claims them… but you have fresh blood. You have never been claimed.” Jumin stepped closer, freezing Zen in his tracks. He lifted a hand to Zen’s jaw and tilted his head upwards slightly. “I can tell the difference; almost like aged, regional wine, slights in the scent shifting, season by season. I predict you will taste just as sweet.”

Holy shit. Zen was flushed pink, hot all over. Jumin’s voice was so low, his lips so close. No client had ever made him feel like this before…

“You have virgin blood, Zen. And you are so beautiful. I admit… when I think of tasting you, my nerves light aflame.”

Zen could not move, except for the fact that his hands were shaking. The anxiety and fear were turning him on. This was unfair and unbelievable - why was his body reacting like this? Why did Jumin have to be so sexy!?

Jumin took his hand down and stepped back. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not supposed to say things like that?”

Zen could feel the heat on his cheeks. “No, don’t worry. I liked it. It’s just that…” 

_I’m hopelessly attracted to you. I want you to have me, and fuck me, and taste me. I want you to hurt me._

“…The sweet talk is usually my job.”

“I see.” Jumin paused, his black eyes still locked onto Zen’s. He started to loosen his tie. “Well… now that formalities are out of the way, we should get started, right?”

Zen didn’t respond verbally, but almost by reflex he took off his jacket and started to undress.

As he did so, he focused on the picture before him; of the man in a suit with a backdrop of black rain. Zen noticed how beautiful it was. He felt luxury surrounding him as desire bled through his pounding heart. 

Zen wanted a piece of this life. He wanted to be tasted and destroyed. He wanted Jumin Han.


End file.
